


Thank You, Darling

by Return_My_Sanity



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Peggy Carter, Cinnamon Roll Angie, Criminal Peggy Carter, F/F, Kissing in the Rain, Peggy is an Art Thief, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4351391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Return_My_Sanity/pseuds/Return_My_Sanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angie is kissed in the rain by an impossibly gorgeous woman, who then runs away.<br/>It's just Angie's luck that the object of her desires is on the run from the police. </p><p>What happens when they meet again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank You, Darling

Angie glares at the downpour falling around her, completely unimpressed with it. She sighs a little, letting the universe know just how disappointed she is with it.

Figures it would rain on the day she decided to walk to work. 

Her friends used to make fun of her, saying that she always had a ray of sunshine trailing after her, hovering just above her head. It obviously decided to take a day off today. 

It’s not her fault that her sister’s overly pessimistic (and a little depressing) personality had always been at odds with hers; that where her sister was moody and brooding, she was peppy and cheerful; where her sister got all the boys to eat out of the palm of her hand with her mysterious personality, Angie was told that she could come on a little strong at times, just by being her normal happy self. 

Just figures.

Such is her life.

And now she is going to be drenched and she’ll have to stoop so low as to call her sister to get her home if she doesn’t want to catch the cold of the century. Angie hates being sick, loathes it, despises it. More so than she hates her sister's shrewd looks and condescending demeanor. 

She could call her parents, but she's really not in the mood for another lesson regarding her life-choices. 

So here she is. Walking. In the rain, with her cheerfully yellow umbrella.

Angie’s so focused on the rain falling down around her, and trying not to slip on the sidewalk, that she completely misses the woman running in her direction, looking over her shoulder every five seconds and looking mildly panicked.

The woman doesn’t see Angie either, because she crashes at full speed against her chest, and it’s in these times that Angie is thankful for her quick reflexes, because otherwise they’d both end up sprawled across the wet pavement.

She manages to throw out a hand to steady the woman, somehow accomplishing the feat of making both of them stay under the same umbrella and on their feet.

“Oh, bloody hell,” the lady curses in a thick English accent.

Angie raises an eyebrow at her and drops her hand, stepping back a little so there’s some space between them, but making sure the woman is still under her umbrella.

She's been taught manners after all, regardless of what her parents say. And her sister. And her friends. Pretty much all of her friends tell her that in all her peppiness and cheer, she sometimes forgets normal politeness. 

The stranger’s mouth is hanging open a little as she eyes Angie up and down, and it’s more than a little distracting.

Angie decides to mimic her, letting her eyes do the once-over and maybe make the woman realize how uncomfortable her staring is.

That doesn’t work for her in the slightest, since she almost immediately gets lost in just how fantastically gorgeous the woman in front of her is. Wide amber eyes, full red lips, dropped open and panting, the pretty flush on her cheeks from exertion pointing out just how pale and flawless her skin is. Her hair is dripping down her body, limp and wet. 

“Angie Martinelli,” she decides to introduce herself, using as little words as possible to avoid saying something silly, and partially because she’s so stunned by the stranger in front of her that even if she tried to use more words she’d probably fail miserably.

The stranger looks around a little frantically and quirks her mouth, “I’m Peggy and I-“

Thundering footsteps and some yelling come from down the end of the street just past the corner, and Peggy's pretty amber eyes, framed by her obscenely long eyelashes, widen.

“-and I really don’t have time for this. I apologize for this, darling. You are more than welcome to slap me afterwards,” she says hurriedly, glancing over her shoulder nervously.

“Wha-“

Peggy twists her long fingers in her blouse and roughly pulls her in so her back is pressed against the wall of the building they're standing next to. And Peggy is covering her, completely from head to toe and, oh, there's a pair of full lips on hers.

Peggy is kissing her.

A complete stranger is kissing her and- and she’s really good at it.

Angie closes her eyes and seals their lips together, kissing her back slowly.

Peggy works a hand into her hair, breathes out a little sigh and licks Angie's bottom lip, as if savoring the taste. 

Angie mimics her; she’s powerless to do otherwise.

Not with those fingers scratching her scalp, pressing in all the right places.

Peggy is holding her tightly, a little desperately, and Angie thinks it’s just unfair that she has to awkwardly clutch her umbrella, and keep balance with the other one, while Peggy has both hands free to use.

She’s faintly aware of the voices going past her, yelling and splattering their way down the street.

Peggy twists her head around, and Angie instinctively fits her lips on her neck, licking the droplets of rain there and sucking the skin into warmness, bringing the blood back to the surface until there’s a pretty mark there.

Peggy is still panting above her, doing these hitched little gasps that are the most wonderful sound Angie's heard in her life. 

She’s confused as to why this is happening, but she’s certainly not complaining about being kissed by a gorgeous woman.

Well, she wasn’t complaining until Peggy pushes cold fingers against her cheek, cradles it for a second, before pushing her back.

She winks suggestively, “This was brilliant, darling, we should do it again.”

Angie blinks at her, wondering if she can steal one more kiss, or probably a full name or something. 

“Yeah,” she breathes out.

Peggy beams, “I really do have to run. But don’t worry, we’ll see each other again, darling,” She pecks Angie on the cheek, then breaks off running down the road, jumping over the fence and cutting through the park.

Angie clutches her umbrella in her hand,

“Okay,” she says, a little confused, and probably looking like a damsel in one of her mom's rubbish romance novels, sighing after their knight in shining armor. 

She doesn’t really know how long she stands there like an idiot, looking after that strange woman, and clutching her umbrella. Apparently so long that the next thing she knows there’s two men in suits, drenched from head to toe, flipping FBI badges in her face like this is some page from the new book from Agatha Christie. 

“Miss, have you seen this woman. She's a wanted fugitive for various crimes. It’s crucial that we get her.”

And then they pass Angie a soggy impression of a paper with Peggy's mug shot on it, smiling confidently at the camera as if in challenge. 

Oh, what a sorry life she has!

Of course the random, beautiful woman that happens to kiss the wits out of Angie is a wanted criminal. How is this her life? Jesus, her sister is never going to let her live this down. 

“I think she went into that shop,” she points to the small antique shop down the road. 

She’s going to go to prison for lying to the police. And she’s going to die there. Because that’s her life.

“Thank you, Miss,” the two men nod, taking off towards the antique shop.

Angie gives up and calls her sister, asking her to come get her. And if she daydreams about soft, full lips on hers, no one's the wiser. 

xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx 

She catches a cold because that's just her luck. And on top of the nasty cold she's visited by her sister, who's very curious as to exactly where she picked up the cold. 

Angie tells her, painstakingly, throat raspy and throbbing. She tries not to wax too much poetry about Peggy, but if her sister's face gives anything away while she recounts it to her, she's failing miserably. 

She laughs hysterically when Angie finishes her story, actually having to wipe at her eyes. 

“Molly,” Angie tries to admonish, her voice turning into something resembling a growl.

She hates being sick.

“Come on, little sister. This is hilarious! And it’s not that bad. I've heard about this woman before from one of the men I used to see, the one that worked at that gallery." Molly trailed off. "She’s just an art thief. And it's all in some Robin Hood fashion, because she donates the painting to struggling galleries because she very set against big corporations."

"Oh," was all Angie could think to say. 

"So, you see, it could be worse" Molly said. 

"How?"

“She could be an evil murderer”

“How funny,” Angie cuts in flatly.

Molly gives her a tiny smile and throws some tissues at her. That’s true Martinelli love in action. 

“Does this make you her seductive partner in crime?” Molly wiggles her eyebrows and laughs too loudly for the headache Angie’s currently sporting.

Angie has no qualms about throwing her right on the floor and watching her yelp indignantly.

Like she said: Martinelli love.

xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx 

She absolutely does not think about Peggy. She doesn’t think about her lips or her hands or the pleased little smile just after she kissed her.

Angie constantly reminds herself that Peggy was only using her to escape the police, and she’d do best to just go to the police and tell them what she knows, which is, admittedly, not much.

Instead she spends her days working at the diner and and daydreaming about how Peggy’s lips would feel on hers again, maybe even on other parts of her body. Oh, what wonderful, wicked things Peggy would do to her. 

God, she was absolutely done for. 

xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx 

It’s raining again, and it's just typical. And this time she's left her umbrella at home. Typical. 

“Would you like to walk with me, darling?” a cheery voice asks, holding up a bright red umbrella to her.

Angie scowls in the general direction of whomever it is who dared talk to her in this weather, only to see Peggy grinning, an eyebrow lifted in invitation.

“You’re a criminal,” Angie tells her, because she feels it needs to be said. 

“So, I’m a criminal,” Peggy shrugs like she’s saying she prefers tea to coffee, and not about how she likes to evade the law, “Do you still want to walk with me?”

Angie looks at the way the rain is aggressively hitting the pavement, and how it seems so dry and warm under Peggy's umbrella. 

She makes appalling life decisions.

“Alright.”

Peggy smiles brilliantly at her, invoking the image of the sun parting through stormy clouds, and Angie is once again reminded of how absolutely gone she is one this woman. 

“So, Angie,” Peggy rolls her name on her tongue like she’s talking about a particularly tasty desert, “Miss me?”

“Why would I miss the criminal that kissed me as a distraction while she was on the run from the police?”

Peggy grins, and Angie sways a little closer to her. 

What? It’s raining, she just doesn’t want to get wet.

“That’s not a no.” Peggy drawls. 

“It’s not a yes, either.”

Peggy laughs, the umbrella shaking with her mirth above them.

“You know, Jarvis told me this would be a stupid thing to do. But you, Angie, I like you.”

Angie flushes at that, “This is only our second meeting.”

“I’ve kissed you. You learn a lot by how a person kisses,” Peggy grins.

“That sounds like rubbish.”

Peggy shrugs. “That may be. But you can certainly tell if a person is attracted to you or not. And you, darling, are definitely attracted to me.”

Angie blushed. Why couldn't she think of something witty to say in return? 

“What are you doing here?” she decides to ask. It’s a good distraction, and she’s curious to know why some famous art thief is interested in talking to her. 

“Here with you, or her in New York?”

"Both.”

“I'm visiting a friend who's hiding over here with his Jewish wife. He's a forger, he was my previous partner, until he got married that is.” Peggy says, warmth in her eyes as she talks about an obviously dear friend.

“And why do you want to spend time with me?"

“Because you're clearly attratced to me, and you're very cute,” Peggy drops her eyes to the floor, seeming a little uneasy, a little nervous “And I’ll need to lay low for a while, so I thought about going to dinner with this lovely girl I met in the rain.”

Angie is gaping, looking at Peggy as if she's grown a second head. 

“You want to take me to dinner?”

“Yes. If- if that is something you want?”

Angie smiles a little at the ground. This is a terrible idea. The worst she’s ever had.

“Alright. One dinner,” she agrees, and watches in fascination as Peggy’s entire face lits up, “Somewhere quiet, preferably. And if you could leave your friends from the police at home, that would also be preferable,”

Peggy laughs, loud and impossibly beautiful. 

“Okay. I will come for you at 7 tomorrow?”

“You don't know where I live.”

“Yes, I do, darling.”

“That’s a little disturbing..”

“Jarvis, the friend I'm visiting, did some research for me.”

“Jarvis sounds both competent and terrifying.”

“Oh, he is" Peggy says, smiling fondly. "But it’s all in the name of a good cause. Actually, I owe everything to him, he's been with me through everything. At dinner I'll tell you about that time he saved us from burned alive when stealing 'Scream' by Edvard Munch.”

“Sounds fun,” Angie giggles, and Peggy is looking at her with mirth. 

"It truly was.”

Angie stops outside The Griffith Hotel. She turns to Peggy, a shy smile on her lips.

“I'll see you at dinner tomorrow.”

"Yes," Peggy says, her smile verging on seductive. "I will see you tomorrow, darling,” She places her long fingers at Angie's neck, and drags her in for a chaste kiss. 

“It’s indecent to kiss before a date,” Angie tells her, flushing a little. 

“I am an art thief, darling. That’s what I do. So I had to steal a kiss from the best work I've ever seen.”

Angie can’t help the little snort she gives, just like she can't help the blush that's rising up her cheeks. 

“Goodbye, English.”

“Goodbye, Angie,” Peggy says, grinning at the new nickname, “Have a nice evening.”

Peggy blows her a kiss and leaves, and Angie is left there, leaning against the door of The Griffith, and chastising herself for her life choices, but never bringing herself to actually regret them. At least not this one.

She might, later on. There's no predicting what will happen. Angie feels the need to state that she isn’t an optimist, not in the least. But there's so much joy in hoping that this truly could turn out for the best, turn into something wonderful. 

She stands there and watches Peggy walk away, swaying under her red umbrella. Then she passes the corner and is out of sight,

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> This is my first attempt at writing Cartinelli, and I hope I did them justice.
> 
> Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!
> 
>  
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://lissesi.tumblr.com/)


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